Shift
by xiamei
Summary: Once, Cloud pitied them; those that existed only for their masters.
1. Cloud

(Edit, 20 Feb 2009) BEFORE ANYTHING, I would like to issue a formal apology to aphelion orion, from whom I got the idea for the slave world, and from whom I did not wait for appropriate permission before posting – all because of my own impatience. I truly am sorry for not thinking before acting, and for any offence I may have caused.

WARNINGS: Slash, plus mentions of slavery and sex. Cheese. A little confusing too, I think.

INSPIRED BY: The slavery premise of Aphelion Orion's _Sale_.

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Cloud, as much as he tried avoiding getting bought, has had his fair share of masters. Not all of them were cruel, and he vaguely recalls a lady who could even be called _nice_... but his experiences have taught him to be careful. Which was why, the first month he was taken into Sephiroth's household, he kept to himself as best as he could.

Not that he succeeded in any decent level. At first it was his Master's aide, who, unfortunately for him, was of a strange friendly sort. It wouldn't be a stretch to say he's never met anyone like Zack. Across continents and different social classes, Cloud has never encountered anyone willing to interact with a slave – much less be _eager_. Whenever he was there, Zack would make sure to visit him and talk to him, and wouldn't leave until Cloud himself spoke.

Then there was Sephiroth.

The tall, imposing general seemed content to leave the young blond to his own devices. Whenever they crossed paths, the man would usually do nothing more than nod at him. And while Sephiroth often called Cloud into his audience, all the soldier did was share meals and ask after the slave's condition.

Needless to say, Cloud was thrown horribly off-balance. Of all the luck on Gaia, he had to have been bought by the strangest master with the strangest friend in the world. He wasn't under any illusions. He'd been a slave as soon as he could be parted from his mother – being treated as a human being was something he was no longer used to. Also, Cloud was bought as a pleasure slave, and while he had never had that role before; he'd heard enough from the others of his kind to know what it entailed. He'd thought he'd known what he was in for – one of the pleasure slaves from his last trader talked of how she had been a cooking wench before, and how her last master had taken delight in teaching her the tricks of the trade himself.

Life as a slave taught Cloud many things – the greatest of which is to always know your place. Uncertainties are as dangerous as the carnivorous monsters of lore. Unknowns can hurt you, break you, kill you.

But how can Cloud account for something he has never experienced? He has never known comfort, so he did not know that it could be disturbingly easy to get used to. He did not realize that one moment of lowered defences will let the warmth seep into his bones. And that as the warmth filled his body, every act of kindness takes on an innocence he's never let them take on before. Inevitably, his guards, his caution – they disappear. And he is left vulnerable. And he breaks.

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Cloud lives the second month virtually unguarded. The silent strength of his Master becomes a constant. The meals and companionship begins to induce a sense of peace. It does not take very long until he begins to look forward to seeing his Master, like those slaves he once pitied in the trade dens.

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On the third month, Sephiroth is called to the borders. Cloud knows there is no real danger. While it is true that the general has been called due to increased activity – there is no war, and Sephiroth has lived through much, much worse. There is so little to worry about, in fact, that Zack is largely unperturbed by his superior's extended leave.

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One week passes, and then two. Soon a month has gone by. As each day passes, Cloud feels a strange cloying feeling in his chest. One that travels to his throat when horses' hooves thunder and no general comes with it. In the dreams he cannot remember, he sees silver and blood and he wakes up sweating, palms sweating and bile rising to his mouth.

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So when Sephiroth returns after nearly two months away, Cloud feels a strange lightness in his thoughts and feelings. He barely notices that himself rushing out to the door as soon as he catches a glimpse of the silver head of hair.

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That night, Cloud is finally called to Sephiroth's bedchambers.

Months ago, Cloud would have been wary. Perhaps he would have been a little afraid. But now, as he walks slowly to his Master, all he can feel is the return of the peace he has lost in the general's absence.

When Sephiroth beckons him closer, Cloud obeys without thought. "React to me as you wish," his Master tells him, and the young man nods. He has never felt trust, but he thinks this is what it is.

Unquestioningly, Cloud lowers himself to the bed when large hands urge him to do so. He moves his lips and tongue as best as he can as Sephiroth does to him. He licks and bites and kisses as his General does to him, willing only to return the pleasant warmth that the other man induces.

When Cloud feels hands push up inside his garments, he lifts his hand but not to stop it. He opens eyes he has not noticed he has closed and looks at his General, whose face is flushed and whose lips have turned up very slightly at the corners to form a nearly imperceptible smile. Barely a second later he closes his eyes again and lets the hands wander as they will, and divests his Master of his robes when urged.

He is not afraid when Sephiroth's hands, lips, tongue, touch all of him; is even eager to return the favour. He moans and cries out his Master's many titles when long fingers reach inside him; and later screams his Master's name when Sephiroth whispers permission in his ear as the General pushes himself inside the young man's body.

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In his fifth month in the house of the Great Sephiroth, Cloud wakes to a warmth he thinks he can no longer live without. In the days following, when he is transferred to quarters that adjoin the general's, he begins to notice how his world has been reformed around his Master. Distantly, he thinks that this may be a Bad Thing, but he cannot bring himself to worry.

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All that matters now is His World.

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(Edit 2, 20 Feb 2009 = Thank you to Platerair_Queen, who pointed out a few formatting issues)

Review?


	2. Sephiroth

Okay! Sorry this took so long! The idea's been floating around for ages, but man, it's hard to write...

Special thanks to: Platerair Queen, who helped me feel a lot better about my carelessness. :D You are loved.

Disclaimer: Squeenix owns everything, including my soul.

Warnings: Mentions of sex, commodification of human beings, twisted-ness in general

Beta anyone? O_o I have not much faith in my coherency.

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Soon after Sephiroth was born, a prophecy was made of a child that will bring glory and strength to the empire. This child, the prophecy says, will be born from an unblessed bond, and will bear a mark of the heavens.

Sephiroth - born from an unwed union of a noblewoman and a military strategist - had pale skin, silver hair, bright eyes, and a small quarter-moon mark on his neck. It was no surprise, then, that everyone considered him to be the child of prophecy – a child of the heavens at night. Because of this, Sephiroth grew up with the burden of everyone's expectations. He knew no one except his teachers and did nothing but train to become the greatest general in the history of the known world. He knew no mercy, no kindness, no love. After all, books do not tell of these.

However, on his first battle, Sephiroth had, inexplicably, let a prisoner go. But this one prisoner sold information to the enemy and nearly caused Sephiroth's camp to lose. It was after this battle that his guardian, his father's brother, took him aside and revealed to him the truth of his life.

"There is no prophecy", his uncle said. "And your parents paid for it. The wrath of the gods have struck them and their oracles down; but mercy has been shown to you. Do not waste it."

Since that day, Sephiroth lived for nothing but victory. His parents' lives have been shed for his survival, and so he decided to honour their deaths through this one thing. No one will ever find out of their disgrace as long as he breathes in this Earth.

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His allies called him a godsend, his enemies a demon. From childhood he was called 'special' but now he has recognized it as simply being different. Being unique marks you for life, and it is mere chance that decides whether for better or for worse.

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Sephiroth knows he is lucky. In his birth, in his battles, in his life. He considers his skill only second to his good fortune. After all, if he was not marked for 'greatness' he would have been marked for wickedness... and no amount of money or skill would have helped him.

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As the years went by, the burden of his uniqueness grew, and Sephiroth took to keeping his hair long. His hair, his skin, even his height he could not change – but that one small mark he could at least hope to hide. He knew it was useless, but it always made him feel better. Because even while Sephiroth has learned to accept being who he is, but has always been difficult to completely smother the small hope that one day people would just stop _looking._

It was on one of these days of secret self-pity that he found the boy. The boy was hard to miss in the market, what with his pale skin and golden hair contrasting with the dark corner of the pen he had huddled in. Idly, Sephiroth watched as the boy occasionally looked up apprehensively at the world around him, and curled tighter upon himself whenever a customer came.

The boy was different, that much was certain. Blue eyes and gold hair bright even through the grime that covered him. Pale skin red in places the sun has beat down upon, but barely any darkening. Singular. Unique.

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Sephiroth wondered if that was what his fate would have been, had luck deserted him.

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For days, Sephiroth wandered around the market, eyes always straying to the blond boy but never venturing close. Even as angry red blotches appeared on his flesh from the fierce sun on his moonbeam skin, he ventured out in the sweltering heat to watch the boy from afar. After all, the slave merchant could leave any day. Every morning might be his last chance to see the boy.

"Why don't you just _buy_ him already?" his lieutenant asked one day; and on a whim, Sephiroth _did_. Barely any thought went to approaching the trader, to asking for the little one to be brought to him, and to finally, _finally_, asking for the boy's name.

"Cloud..." The boy said, carefully, meekly. Blue eyes stared in confusion. Slaves were just slaves after all, and how many masters knew their slaves were even _people_, much less know their names? Just like that, after one word rough from thirst; Sephiroth knew he would have to buy _Cloud_.

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Not a day went by that Sephiroth did not see Cloud. At first, it was like being in the market all over again... except for the certainty that Cloud would still be there the next morning. Sephiroth would watch Cloud's dealings from afar, watching as the boy's eyes, skin, hair, grew brighter by the day. It fascinated him such that the need to _understand_ overtook him, and so unwittingly his summons came more and more often. Once a week, twice a week, every other day, every day... twice a day, thrice a day, every meal.

...And in the middle of the third month of Cloud's stay, Sephiroth had to leave; and here he realized how much Cloud had become a definite part of his day. Everyone, everything seemed dull when compared to Cloud's _brightness_. Each meal he took was filled with buzzing silence; incomplete without Cloud's light voice.

Time passed without him knowing. His days returned to the lifeless, uninteresting existence of months past. He began noticing the whispers, the awe, the jealousy all over again. What _humanity _he had begun feeling was stripped from him and replaced by the strategist, the soldier, The General.

He did not know how long he stayed away; all he knew was the sharp feel of relief when he could finally _return_.

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There was no special intent in calling Cloud to his chambers instead of his parlour – but Sephiroth is unprepared for the _longing_ that fills him when Cloud enters the room. His breath hitches like a man released from death, and he cannot stop himself. He calls Cloud to him, and runs his long fingers along the pink flush on pale cheeks.

Cloud doesn't move an inch even when Sephiroth runs his hands down the other's back through thin tunic, and the haze in Sephiroth's mind parts enough for the tall man to issue permission. To move, to act, to react. He pulls Cloud close, sets the other on the bed beneath them. He breathes in the sweet, fresh scent of the younger man and lets himself taste the beckoning pink lips. His hands wander underneath the flimsy cloth of the other man's clothing, and feels smaller arms lift and hesitate.

He smiles when those arms lift and do not push him away, and watches contentedly when the younger man opens blue eyes to look imploringly at him. He nuzzles a pale neck when those blue eyes close and the raised arms finally settle on Sephiroth's skin. Warmth, and what he supposes is happiness, settles around his heart as he feels more of Cloud, and as Cloud explores more of him.

Sephiroth watches as Cloud bites and licks, sighs and moans, touches and kisses. There is adoration in the young man's eyes but one unlike the distant awe others give him. When Cloud's eyes flutter Sephiroth knows Cloud sees only _Sephiroth_. Sephiroth is special to Cloud not from a prophecy or battle prowess, but for companionship.

Cloth parts, and Sephiroth strives to touch every inch of skin in the other's body, and is rewarded when Cloud frantically strives to do the same. "General!MasterMyLordMasterMyGeneralMyMaster..." Not even his titles detract from the contentment that has settled around him like a thick fog, and it takes only a whisper for Cloud to start screaming "Sephiroth" instead.

His heart pounds as he slips fingers briefly into his own mouth before plunging them inside the pliant body beneath him, and he moans long and hard as Cloud gasps and arches into him. Cloud is louder than even the blood pounding in his ears, and it takes only a moment for him to break and sheathe himself, finally, into Cloud. He pushes and he pulls and he _pushes_, and it doesn't take long for either of them to peak. Hot seed flows out of him and into Cloud, and Cloud's flows freely on their bared chests and Sephiroth's hand.

Sephiroth smiles and brushes lips along a sweaty, blond-fringed forehead and pulls Cloud closer as sleep takes them. When Sephiroth wakes the next day to bright blue eyes, he arranges for Cloud to stay closer, into a room adjoining his, even as he knows that he will not let the other stay in any bed but his own.

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He is a person only to Cloud, and Cloud is a person only to him. For this, Sephiroth keeps Cloud beside him, and revels in the feel of being _human_.

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Thanks for everyone who reviewed/faved/alerted! XD Wanna make my day and review/fav/alert more? Heheh. Watch out for my next (currently partly-written and sorta stuck) twisted!Seph SxC fic.


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